I was six years old when my family moved here.
The chain-link fence and wooden fence are new. The street was not paved. Other than that, it looks very much like it did in 1956.

There was a wooden milk box (Crescent Creamery) that remained on the front porch - often used as a chair. I recall sitting on it and counting the cars as they drove past our duplex - little did I know they would all become classics. I was interrested only in volume.

We lived in the left side of the duplex. To the left of the building was a vacant lot where I scraped out "runways" to land balsa wood airplanes.

I recall building a runway, backing up on my hands and knees to flatten out a five or six inch "swath," and, with the final flourish that completed the end of the runway - sat on the plane, squashing and splintering it before it's maiden voyage.

In 1947 my mother won the "National Steve Canyon Art Contest" at the age of 17.